Speaking in Tongues

pinko touchy-feely crap is that?” an equally drunken Tate had roared.
    They’d been tight friends ever since.
    Another knock on the front door.
    “Maybe that’s her,” Bett said eagerly. But when Tate opened the door a crew-cut man in a cheap, slope-shouldered gray suit walked inside. He stood very straight and looked Tate in the eye. “Mr. Collier. I’m Detective Ted Beauridge. Fairfax County Police. I’m with Juvenile.”
    Tate led him inside and introduced Beauridge to Bett while Konnie clicked the TV’s channel selector. He seemed fascinated to find a TV that had no remote control.
    Beauridge was polite and efficient but clearly he didn’t want to be here. Konnie was the sole reason Megan’s disappearance was getting any attention at all. When Tate had called, Konnie’d told him that it was too early for a missing person’s report; twenty-four hours’ disappearance was required unless the individual was under fifteen, mentally handicapped or endangered. Still, Konnie had somehow “accidentally forgotten” to get his supervisor’s okay and had run a tag check on Megan’s car. And he’d put in a request for Jane Doe admissions at all the area hospitals.
    Tate ushered them into the living room. Bett asked, “Would you like some coffee or . . . ?” Her voice faded and she laughed in embarrassment, looking at Tate, undoubtedly remembering that this had not been her house for a long, long time.
    “Nothing, thanks, ma’am,” Beauridge said for them both.
    In the time it had taken Konnie to arrive, Bett had called some friends of Megan’s. She’d spent the night at Amy Walker’s. Bett had called this girl first but no one had answered. She left a message on the Walkers’ voice mail then called some of her other friends. Brittany, Kelly and Donna hadn’t seen Megan or heard from her today. They didn’t know if she had plans except maybe showing up at the mall later. “To, you know, like, hang out.”
    Konnie asked Tate and Bett about the girl’s Saturday routine.
    “She normally has a therapy session Saturday morning,” Bett explained. “At nine. But the doctor had to cancel today. His mother was sick or something.”
    “Could she just’ve forgotten about coming here for lunch?”
    “When we talked yesterday I reminded her about it.”
    “Was she good about keeping appointments?” Beauridge asked.
    Tate didn’t know. She’d always shown up on time when he took her shopping or to dinner at the Ritz in Tysons. He told them this. Bett said that she was “semigood about being prompt.” But she didn’t think the girl would miss this lunch. “The three of us being together and all,” she added with a faint cryptic laugh.
    “What about boyfriends?” Konnie asked.
    “She didn’t—” Tate began.
    Then halted at Bett’s glance. And he realized he didn’t have a clue whether Megan had a boyfriend or not.
    Bett continued, “She did but they broke up last month.”
    “She the one broke it off?”
    “Yes.”
    “So is he trouble, you think? This kid?” Konnie tugged at a jowl.
    “I don’t think so. He seemed very nice. Easygoing.”
    So did Ted Bundy, Tate thought.
    “What’s his name?”
    “Joshua LeFevre. He’s a senior at George Mason.”
    “He’s a senior in college?” Tate asked.
    “Well, yes,” she said.
    “Bett, she’s only seventeen. I mean—”
    “Tate,” Bett said again. “He was a nice boy. His mother’s some executive at EDS, his father’s stationed at the Pentagon. And Josh’s a championship athlete. He’s also head of the Black Students’ Association.”
    “The what?”
    “Tate!”
    “Well, I’m just surprised. I mean, it doesn’t matter.”
    Bett shrugged with some exasperation.
    “It doesn’t,” Tate said defensively. “I’m just—”
    “—surprised,” Konnie repeated wryly. “Mr. ACLU speaks.”
    “You know his number?” Beauridge asked.
    Bett didn’t but she got it from directory assistance and called. She apparently got one of his roommates. Joshua was out. She left a message for him to call when he returned.
    “So. She’s been here and gone. No sign of a struggle?” Konnie looked around the front hall.
    “None.”
    “What about the alarms?”
    “I had them off.”
    “There a panic button she could hit if somebody was inside waiting for her?”
    “Yep. And she knows about it.”
    Bett offered, “She left the house keys here. She has her car keys with her.”
    “Could somebody,” Konnie speculated, “have